


The Cottage In The Orchard

by nightmurmurs



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Bokuaka - Freeform, Eventual Romance, Language of Flowers, M/M, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prince Akaashi Keiji, Royalty, Slow Burn, gardener bokuto koutarou, minor use of magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:35:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26405080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmurmurs/pseuds/nightmurmurs
Summary: Prince Akaashi Keiji meets a mysterious gardner by the name of Bokuto Koutarou, who has even more mysterious connections. They become quick friends and work together to prepare for the upcoming ball.Will their blossoming relationship come to a grinding halt, or is the universe on their side?
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18





	1. Imps and Anemones

**Author's Note:**

> IM SO EXCITED TO START THIS!!! i am a simp for royalty aus and bokuaka. please enjoy hehe

A bubbling stream would be calming to most, but Keiji wasn’t most. Prince and heir to the throne of Fukurodani was definitely the top 1%. He frequently sat on the grassy bank, looking at the river from a safe distance - if he stretched he could see the water cascading down the rocks. If his mother was here, she would dig her knee into his back and roll his shoulders back _(No child of mine will be caught slouching!!)._

The river gurgled away, and Keiji dared to chuck a single stick into the water, and watched it float downstream until he couldn't see it anymore as it had disappeared under a wooden bridge that was coated in moss. 

Keiji was satisfied that he would not be found - he was so deep into the gardens he doubted even the gardeners ventured this far. It certainly didn’t look like it, with the somewhat unkempt lawn and weed filled plant beds. The flowers still bloomed, bright and unbothered by the neglect.

Keiji had always liked this spot from the very moment he discovered it a few years ago, calling it his own personal Garden of Eden, mainly due to the apple tree, whose gnarled branches reached over the river. It produced beautiful blossoms in the spring, and crunchy, sweet apples by the time summer arrived. He could distress from princely duties, and create some physical (and mental) distance from everyone and everything back at the palace. He would bring a blanket, maybe some snacks, and whatever book he was reading at that moment and lay near the banks, enjoying the sun and listening to the birds talk. If it was extra hot, and he was feeling courageous, he would dare to sit at the very edge of the river, and peel off his socks and shoes, and let the water wrap around his ankles. He never actually stood up in the river - he felt like he would be taken away by the current, or maybe he would underestimate how deep it was and drown. It was a somewhat irrational phobia, but it stemmed from when his mother took him to a mage, who had predicted that he would die by drowning. It never hurt to be cautious.

Across the river, was a cottage nestled on top of a small incline. It was hard to see what the true colour of the bricks were, as they were dirty and smothered in ivy and various other pieces of foliage. A small waterfall was to its left, and fed into the river. The slated roof had two chimneys, a bird nest on the further one - clearly the fire had not been lit recently, otherwise those birds would have been slow cooked by now. A single window was on the wall that directly faced Keiji from where he sat, dark curtains pulled over.

As far as Keiji was aware, no-one had occupied that building for a while, or for as long as Keiji had visited. He had never bothered checking if the door was unlocked or anything, there could be squatters, or worse, in Keiji’s mind, filled with spiders and cobwebs that haven’t seen daylight for years. The dust inside was probably enough to instantly KO someone with asthma.

It was finally Saturday, the usual day he headed to his personal garden. He normally frequented more than once a week if his duties allowed it, but made a habit to go at least once. However, the past three weeks Keji had been unable to visit. The first week he had been caught twice by the same guard inside the palace, and had to pretend he was going somewhere else with a blanket, and a basket of strawberries. The other two weeks had been entirely out of his control, as his mother had roped him into the masquerade preparations. He was never the type for big celebrations, but as it was in honour of the recent trade deals sparked between their kingdom and another, his mother demanded that he participate, or at least pretend he cared ( _‘You’ll be running this place once your father and I leave!’_ she had reprimanded). The talks about napkin colours and the flavour of the punch were not really Keiji’s cup of tea.

It wasn’t that Keiji disliked the Kingdom of Nekoma, he actually quite liked the current king - he was around Keiji’s age, and a complete prankster. Mature, yes, but still a prankster. Keiji didn't think he could ever forget when attending a party to celebrate 100 years of independence for Aoba Johsai, who had split from the Kingdom of Shiratorizawa, and King Testurou had given him one of those breakaways chairs that collapsed under any sort of weight. Keiji’s ears still burnt whenever he thought about it.

Keiji picked up a blanket from a drawing room, and chose a new book from the library to read. One of the librarians had recommended this title, and he was excited to read - Yukie never let him down on the book front. He checked the doorway from a window before speed walking out of the courtyard. His usual route took him around the church, and through a hole in the hedgerow, where there brambles clung to his shirt.

The water met his ears before his eyes, and he smiled to himself - finally, he was back at his personal grotto. He took to his normal space, laying out his blanket, and cracked open his new book (The Rise and Fall of Ash-sama. It wasn’t a genre Keiji usually read, but Yukie gave it a good review, and warned him of the sad ending). He reached the fourth chapter before he took a break. His eyes met the cottage on the other side of the river. He blinked, and rubbed his eyes, eyebrows knitting together. He rubbed them hard again, and blinked even harder. The curtains were pulled open, and light poured out from inside.

He set his book down, and stood. For the first time since he started spending time here, he was crossing the bridge. He tested each plank, unsure if the rotten wood would even support his weight. They bowed a bit under his foot, but not enough to overpower his curiosity. He took the short, stony path up to the cottage, and up to the door. It was a pretty yellow, and chipped places to reveal the pine underneath. He stood looking at the paint job, running through all the possibilities of why this cottage was now in use. Either someone was just cleaning it or sun pixies had somehow wormed their way through the woodwork. Keiji wasn’t sure which option was better, sun pixies had a horrible bite.

His hand met the cool brass of the door handle, but faltered as a crash echoed from inside. A yell, followed by another crash, and the sound of objects falling from a height. Keiji tried the door, and it swung open. He took a few steps inside.

Stood in the middle of an open plan kitchen was a man who was owlish in appearance, wide eyes and spiky monochrome hair. He was dishevelled, and a bit red in the face. A greyish imp was crouching next to him, and they were both frozen looking at the intruder. The man took this chance to swing at the imp whilst it was distracted by Keiji, but it jumped, and bounced off the kitchen counter, scattering photographs and scraps of newspapers, before swinging off the pot rack attached to the ceiling.

‘My pictures!’ the main wailed as the imp dived for the door. Keiji suddenly came back to life, and he grabbed the imp by the wrist as it tried to dart under Keiji’s legs. It squirmed and hissed in his grip, it’s claws digging into the skin on the inside of his wrist. Imps weren’t exactly the top of the food chain - they stood only a few feet tall, but could probably reach Keiji’s belly button if they stopped slouching. Their skin was normally a sickly grey or purple, with beady blackholes for eyes dug deep in their skulls.

Keiji squeezed the imp’s wrist and muttered a brief spell under his breath, and it wailed, before dissipating into nothingness. He wiped the residue on his trousers.

‘ _Wow_ ,’ the man whistled through his teeth, and Keiji froze again, ‘it kept slipping out my grip so I couldn’t get a good hold on 'em!’ Keiji nodded, feeling something sticky on the inside of his wrist where the imp had caught him. Blood was seeping through his cream blouse.

‘Can I use- use your sink?’ Keiji wheezed, unable to look away from the reddening fabric. He took a step forward, but the tiled floor beneath him swayed. He grabbed the kitchen counter to stop himself just collapsing. The man bounced across the room, and clutched Keiji’s forearm, rolling up his sleeve. He guided him towards the sink, and began running it under the cool water.

Keiji watched him work with bleary eyes, the man's tongue stuck out between his lips as he concentrated, gently dabbing at his wrist. He turned, and began rummaging through a drawer.

‘You came just in time. I think I left the key in the backdoor and that stupid thing got in. He ransacked my bedroom, and was starting with my living room!’ the man laughed, not sounding at all annoyed. He clipped some gauze off a reel with a pair of scissors, and wrapped it around Keiji’s wrist once the bleeding slowed. He tied it with a little bow, and pulled down Keiji’s sleeve for him.

‘Do you want something to drink? You look a bit pale,’ the man asked, and Keiji stared at him, mind blanking. His eyes reminded Keiji of those pretty flowers that grew outside his bedroom window. His jawline was sharp, and he smelt like lavender. Keiji nodded, and the man sat him down at a small table with two wooden chairs. He sank into the chair, still somewhat lightheaded.

A kettle whistled, and metal against mugs filled the small space. Keiji observed the interior of the cottage - the kitchen was open, and well lit with natural light from the window above the sink. Furnished with wooden countertops and pale cupboards, it was quite quaint. Most of the walls were covered either by shelves packed full of books, or framed paintings of landscapes and people. The small parts of the walls that poked through were painted a soft brown.

The kitchen led into a cozy living room, fit with a plush sofa, and a patchwork beanbag. A kotatsu covered in various knickknacks stood in front of a brick fireplace, which was also decorated with framed photos. A spiral staircase was in the corner.

‘My name’s Bokuto Koutarou, by the way. I work in the gardens,’ Bokuto said, placing a steaming cup of yellowish liquid. Keiji picked up the mug with two shaking hands, unsure if he was strong enough to even hold it by the handle, and took a sip - ginger tea.

‘I haven’t seen you before, do you work in the main palace?’ 

Keiji looked at the man, waiting for him to go _jokes!_ or something along those lands, but he remained genuine and curious. His mush of a brain suddenly caught up.

Bokuto didn’t recognise him... 

Bokuto _didn’t recognise him!_

Keiji was baffled - how can someone not at least  _ recognise  _ him? It wasn’t that he was narcissistic or anything, but how can you not recognise the prince of the literal kingdom you work for? Keiji had been to plenty of political meetings, mainly to show his face, so it wasn’t like he was a hermit. 

‘You don’t know who I am?’

‘No? Should I?’ Bokuto looked over the top of his own mug.

Keiji's brain decided he needed to lie, and very quickly. He didn’t think he could cope with this man jumping up and bowing and calling him  _ prince  _ or worse,  _ your highness.  _ He never really cared for titles or status unlike his father. He disliked how people would treat him as if he was some sort of  _ god  _ \- he was just like them, the only difference was that he was born into wealth, and benefited from capitalism. He also disliked how the rest of his family tended to treat people without titles, such as the servants and staff that worked under them as sub-human. Keiji prided himself on knowing their names, and addressing them as such. 

This was his chance for someone to actually know him for who he was, not as a title. His heart fluttered at the thought. It was hard to know if people actually liked him, or just felt that they had to like him in fear of capital punishment. This was probably a selfish decision, and would bite his ass in the future, but right now, dizzy as hell, he felt like he had to. He needed a new identity quickly.

‘No, I was just asking. I’m Nakamura Eiji,’ he lied, ‘I work in the library.’

‘Gwahhh! That’s so cool! I don’t really like reading unless it's about cooking or plants,’ Bokuto marvelled, the table rocking as he lent forward. He gestured to the shelves on the far wall.

‘Nakamura, do you get to speak to the King? Or the Queen? Or any of the children?’ he asked excitedly, and the contents of Keiji’s cup sloshed dangerously close to the rim.

‘Yes. Prince Keiji frequents.’ That wasn’t a lie, but it felt strange to talk about himself in third person, as if they were two seperate people. As far as Bokuto knew, they were.

‘I think you have the coolest job. You get to see the royal family, _and_ see the inside of the palace! I don’t even have any reason to be over there, let alone inside!’

‘That’s- unfortunate.’ To Keiji, the palace wasn’t much - it was freezing in the winter, and sweltering in the summer, but he recognised the novelty of it.

‘So why are you all the way over here, Nakamura? Seems far from the library.’

‘Oh. I-I. To relax, get away from the palace. Gets busy in th-the library,’ Keiji chuckled nervously, and preoccupied himself with taking a long sip.

‘I totally get it! Before I got fired at my old place, they always had something for me to do. I get that it’s my job, but still! I hardly got to enjoy the grounds.’ _Fired,_ Keiji thought. He wanted to ask, but it seemed too personal to do so yet - he barely knew Bokuto.

Bokuto finished his drink, and grabbed it along with Keiji’s, dumping them in the sink. He pulled a straw sunhat off the back of the front door, and pushed it on his head.

‘I have some duties to attend to!’ Bokuto exclaimed, pulling on a pair of obnoxiously bright welly boots.

‘I’m in debt to you, Bokuto-san,’ Keiji said, standing.

‘It’s okay! I shouldn’t have left my key in the door,’ Bokuto smiled.

‘Please let me assist you with something. I’ll feel guilty otherwise,’ Keiji smiled back, before bowing slightly, and Bokuto paused for a second or two, his face flashing with some sort of familiarity at the action, but it was gone before Keiji could properly believe that he had seen it.

‘If you insist! You could help me clean the mess the imp caused.’ Bokuto ushered them both out of his cottage, and down the path. He stopped at the bridge.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow, same time?’ Bokuto asked, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

‘Of course, I’ll see you then.’ Keiji watched as Bokuto bounced across the small grassy area in front of his cottage, and disappeared into what Keiji believed was an orchard. He went back over the bridge, collecting his forgotten book and blanket, and headed home, a little starstruck still. Keiji wasn’t the kind to just talk to random people for ten minutes and then agree to help them clean up their home. He couldn’t lie to himself, the man was definitely attractive, but  _ still. Must be something in the air,  _ Keiji thought, and shook his head as he took the stairs two at a time up to his bedroom, and quickly changed into a fresh, non-bloodied, shirt.

He felt quite dazed for the rest of the day, and even his personal maid, Kaori, asked if he was unwell when he stumbled out from dinner, apologising to a statue he nearly walked into.

‘I’m quite okay, Kaori-san, thank you,’ he had reassured her. She had simply nodded, concern still evident on her face, but she didn’t ask any further questions.

Once he had slipped into bed later that evening, Keiji found himself tossing and turning, and spending a lot of time staring up at the ceiling. He still couldn't understand himself properly, but all he knew was that, according to Bokuto, he was Nakamura Eiji, not the heir to the throne of Fukurodani. Not a major secret to keep or anything. He huffed, and turned his silk pillow over to the cooler side.


	2. Photographs and Snapdragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Snapdragons are said to represent both deception (perhaps tied to the notion of concealment) and graciousness."

‘Keiji, darling, which shade?’ his mother cooed, brandishing two pieces of cloth.

‘They’re the same colour,’ he replied, spooning sugar into his porridge.

‘No, this one is more of a crimson, and this one’s scarlet. Your father said the exact same thing!’ ‘Because they’re the same colour.’ His mother huffed, and went to bother his little sister, Akari. Why should Keiji be involved in decorating for Nekoma? Can’t their staff do it? His mother had explained why they were holding the ball at Fukurodani, but he hadn’t been listening, and was too scared to ask again. He finished eating, and ruffled his brother’s hair as he went past, just to be annoying. Takuma let out a shriek, and smoothed his fringe down as if Keiji had majorly ruined his bedhead.

Keiji took his usual route, around the church, and through the hedgerow before carefully walking across the bridge. His heart caught in his throat when part of the railing crumbled under his grip. He looked at his palm, which was coated in some sort of slime, in disgust. He quickly wiped it on a leaf before looking up to where he was going. The living room light of the cottage was on, signifying that Bokuto was home. He reached the door and knocked. Only a few seconds passed before Keiji heard footsteps, and Bokuto swung open the door.

‘Nakamura! Come in!’ Today, Bokuto was dressed in dark trousers, and light t-shirt, an apron tied around his middle. It was covered in little drawings of sprites. His hair was pushed back by a checkered bandana, and the pattern clashed obnoxiously with his streaked hair.  ‘How’s your arm?’ 

‘I haven’t checked it, if I’m honest,’ he spoke, hand automatically going to his wrist. Bokuto motioned him closer to where the light was brightest, and began to unwrap the bandage. His fingers were calloused and rough against Keiji’s skin, but he muttered soft apologies under his breath when the bandage pulled at his repairing skin. He gently washed the scratches, and rewrapped it with a fresh bandage.

‘Now, if you’re up to it, can you start in the living room? I think the imp tore into some of the boxes I used to move.’ Keiji complied, and surveyed the living room. Some cardboard boxes stacked in the corner had been slashed, the contents mostly on the floor, along with some books, and a knocked over plant. He began to tidy the spilled dirt with a dustpan, pouring it back into the plant pot, and placed it on the windowsill. Keiji then spoke a quick spell to repair the boxes, and put everything that had fallen out back in. 

Keiji’s magic wasn’t exactly strong, he barely used it, and he only really knew a few repairing spells, along with an imp banishing spell. He didn’t find a need to know much more - Keiji was quite confident that Takuma could beat him in a duel.

Keiji realigned a painting on the wall, and took a brief look. It depicted a lake bordered by pine trees, painted with soft pastels - it reminded Keiji of the lake that resided in the Kingdom of Karasuno.

‘Did you draw this Bokuto-san?’ Keiji asked, and Bokuto popped up from below the kitchen cabinets.

‘I did! It came to me in a dream and I had to draw it before I forgot.’

‘It’s very pretty,’ Keiji complimented and Bokuto made a noise of approval - it must have just been a coincidence. Keiji continued to clean, and noticed that most of the paintings around Bokuto’s home were signed by him. He was very talented, and must have had a lot of spare time.  They worked in comfortable silence, apart from the occasional question Keiji asked, and Bokuto fretting over his arm when Keiji picked up a heavy box.

‘Do you want help?’ 

‘No no, I’m quite able.'

‘You might hurt yourself again!’

‘It’s alright, Bokuto-san, I promise.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m just worried.’ Keiji simply nodded in understanding, a bit speechless that this man he had only met yesterday was at all concerned.

Keiji reached the kotatsu, which was covered in photographs and so was the surrounding floor. He picked them up, and began organising them into the dates that had scribbled on the back. Keiji didn’t want to look at them much, it seemed like an invasion of privacy, but he couldn’t help but take a look at the next one he picked up. His shoulders went rigid, and his eyes widened as he took in the details of the picture. It was a photograph of Bokuto, all smiles, with his arms around the shoulders of two others, who Keiji immediately recognised as Sir Kenma and King Tetsurou of Nekoma. The corners of the photograph were damaged, and they all looked young and fresh faced. Kenma had his usual expression of destain, and Tetsurou had a playful smirk. 

How in all of fiery hell did Bokuto know them two? Keiji flipped it over, and printed on the back was _Kozume, Bokuto, Kuroo - summer ‘23._

He kept staring at it, tilting it every which way so it caught the light differently, but the photo didn’t change - that was definitely Tetsurou and Kenma.

‘Ah! That photo! I’ve been looking for that!’ Keiji jumped in surprise as Bokuto appeared next to him, ‘I think I miss them.’ Bokuto took the photo from Keiji, and his smile turned somewhat nostalgic, before dissipating once he set it back down. _He thinks?_ ‘I recently found all these old photos from when I was little when I was moving in. I can’t even recall taking them, and I only know who they are because it says on the back.’

‘You can’t remember who they are?’ Keiji asked, looking over his shoulder at Bokuto, who had returned to mopping the kitchen floor.

‘Nope! I feel some kind of emotion looking at them, but I’ve never seen any of them before in my life!’

Keiji picked up another photo, and this time it was of Bokuto and a younger boy. His smile was nearly as bright as his tangerine hair as he sat on top of Bokuto’s shoulders, fingers buried in Bokuto’s hair. Prince Shoyou. That was definitely Prince Shoyou, who had recently had his coronation once he married into Karasuno. Keiji wasn’t sure if it was for money or love. Probably money. He turned over the photo: _Bokuto + Hinata, enjoying the sun ‘21._

Was this man dumb? Or had he been dropped as a child? Or was this man actually a murderer and this was a list of his victims? Keiji was pretty certain that Testurou, Kenma, and Shoyou were still alive.

‘Sorry to repeat myself, Bokuto-san, but you seriously don’t know who any of these people are?’ Keiji asked, mystified.

‘Nope. My mother left them behind when she passed, and I brought them with me.’

‘I’m sorry for your loss.’

‘Nah, it was a while ago. She was super cool and used to tell me all these stories about her travels. My favourite one was the one where she- uh-,’ Bokuto’s jaw clamped shut as he trailed off, scratching his head. He seemed to be using a lot of brain power to think of his apparent favourite story.  ‘Ah, nevermind, I’ve forgotten,’ Bokuto laughed it off, and returned to the kitchen in order to smush his mop into a bucket of soapy water.

Keiji carried on organising them by date. There were a few more of him and Prince Shoyou, and plenty of him and King Tetsurou (Prince Tetsurou at the time). They seemed like they were close; pictures of them holding hands in the rain, sharing an ice cream, and napping under a tree together. Keiji still couldn’t quite believe that Bokuto didn’t know who they were. He supposed that if he hadn’t recognised Keiji, that he wouldn’t be much better with identifying anyone else.

‘Why do you ask anyways?’ Bokuto had joined him in the living room, picking up scraps of paper off the carpet.

‘Pardon?’

‘Why do you ask about me not knowing who they are? Do you know them?’ Keiji hesitated in case his mouth decided to move faster than his brain.

‘No, sorry to get your hopes up.’

‘That’s alright, I didn’t expect anyone to. If I don’t, why would anyone else?’ Keiji nodded, and continued sorting.

They soon finished cleaning, and Bokuto announced he had a meeting about garlands and vase designs with the other gardeners. They said their goodbyes, and Keiji returned to the palace once he was sure that Bokuto couldn’t see him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit slow still but its important for da plot lol. exciting things to come ^^


	3. Secrets and Chamomiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chamomiles are known for "energy in adversity".

Soon, Keiji’s visits to the river became visits to Bokuto’s home. He went as often as he could, sometimes once a week, other times four or five times. They baked and cooked together, and spent many hours lounging on the sofa, simply talking. Bokuto spoke about plants, and eagerly showed Keiji centrepiece ideas he had thought of for the ball. Keiji spoke about books he had enjoyed, and life inside the palace. He didn’t have to lie much, mainly glossing over, y’know, his father being the king and stuff.

During one of Keiji’s most recent visits, Bokuto suggested that they tried a new recipe together - peanut butter cookies. It had been an  _ experience,  _ with batter being splattered against the floor, and somehow the ceiling too. Bokuto had tickled Keiji at one point, causing him to throw his head back in laughter, dropping a bag of flour in the process. It let out puffs of white, and left a fine covering over Keiji’s clothes. Once he had returned to the palace, he had told Kaori that he had an allocation with a pixie. Keiji let out a breath of relief when she only raised a single eyebrow and didn’t press any further

On a different day, Keiji had asked Bokuto if his visits were too frequent, and Bokuto had brushed him off immediately. 

‘No! I love when you come see me. I was worried about making friends actually, so I’m glad I met you,’ Bokuto had reassured him, and Keji was pretty sure his face had turned a nice crimson. He had to agree, he was also  _ very _ glad he had met Bokuto. 

Keiji did, however, feel awful about lying, and guilt ate him up each evening when he went to bed. How long would it take for Bokuto to realise his true identity, and would he hate him for lying?

Keiji let himself into Bokuto’s home, using the key that was stashed under the doormat. He said hello to Bokuto’s pet gazrea, a cat-like creature, but was most definitely not a cat - it had only a single ear on top of its head, and its jaw opened wide like it was on hinges. It could easily swallow a fully grown rabbit in one go. She apparently didn’t do that much anymore, as she was old and her ‘mouth-hinges’ were rusty. She was quite friendly though, and extremely fluffy, but Keiji was honestly a bit scared of her. 

‘Nakamura! And Dipo!’ Bokuto came crashing through his back door, and fondly scratched his gazrea behind her ear, who was now lounging on Keiji’s lap. Keiji had learnt that Dipo had been a present for Bokuto’s 8th birthday, and her name was short for  _ dipotassium phosphate,  _ thanks to Kuroo _. _ That had made Keiji laugh, as he knew King Tetsurou had a stable full of horses named after elements on the periodic table. It was very  _ him. _

‘Has she been good?’ Bokuto asked, kicking off his fancy shoes and pulling his tie loose. He had been at a meeting with staff from the Nekoma Kingdom to further discuss ball preparations. Keiji had to pre-tie Bokuto’s tie the day before, and instructed him on how to tighten it again, as he wouldn’t be there for when Bokuto had to leave.

‘Very,’ Keiji replied, and peeled her off his lap to put the kettle on for the both of them. He placed the mugs on the kotatsu, and slipped his legs underneath it, Bokuto joining him. On the table was Bokuto’s scrapbook, which he had been very eager to show Keiji. He flipped through the pages, which were filled with pictures of his youth.

‘Is this your mother?’ Keiji asked as he landed on one of the final pages. She had baby Bokuto in her arms, a wide smile not dissimilar to Bokuto’s now. Her hair was dark, and stuck up at odd angles. Keiji scrunched his nose up, feeling like he had seen that picture before. Probably when he had been organising photos a few months back.

‘It is. And baby me! I’m so cute,’ Bokuto cooed, running a finger over the photo. He took a sip of his tea, before his shoulder’s tensed.

‘Nakamura, can I ask you a question?’ Bokuto started, fidgeting with the sleeve of his blazer.

‘Of course.’

‘Who are you?’ Keiji's jaw went slack, and his hand stopped midway to grab his cup. Alarm bells began screaming inside his head.

‘I’m- me? Nakamura Eiji?’

‘No, but who  _ are  _ you? Your name isn’t Nakamura Eiji.’ 

‘Sorry, but I don’t follow.’ Keiji swallowed dryly, placing his twitching fingers on his lap.

‘See, I was talking to Yukie-san, and I mentioned that you had helped me tie my tie. She was so confused! She said that there was no-one with your name working in the library.’ 

Any other time, Keiji probably would have laughed at Bokuto openly telling everyone that he couldn’t tie a tie. His stomach churned as anxiety built.

‘O-oh. That’s- weird. I work in the library?’ Keiji wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince himself or Bokuto. He wasn’t even sure why he was lying still, his hands were practically covered in red.

‘You’re not trying to murder me are you?’ Bokuto asked, a crease appearing in his brow as he created some distance between them.

‘Bokuto-san. I’m going to tell you something very important, and you mustn’t freak out.’

‘You  _ are  _ trying to murder me?’ his brows were basically at his hairline, and his eyes were glistening.

‘No, I’m not. My name’s not Nakamura Eiji, and I don’t work in the library.’

‘Oh. Where do you work then?’

‘I don’t. Work, that is,’ he took a deep breath, and gently placed his hand on Bokuto’s forearm to be sure he was paying attention.

‘How do you make money?’

‘I don’t need to. I’m Prince Keiji.’ 

Out of all the various reactions Keiiji could have received, he most certainly was not expecting Bokuto to snort with laughter, and to grip the edge of the table, his whole body shaking. His feet kicked at Keiji’s shin.

‘Right, and I’m Prince Takuma.’

‘No, Bokuto-san, I’m serious. I’m Prince Keiji.’ Keiji muttered a quick spell, and pressed his thumb against his cheekbone. He knew the spell had worked as Bokuto’s eyes became saucers. Across his face was the kanji for ‘royalty’ in a deep purple, smudged, and a little skeewiff. The spell would only work for royalty, or people who were descendants of the natives who used to live in the land that Fukurodani now occupied.

‘Waitwaitwaitwaitwait. You are Prince Keiji.  _ The  _ Prince Keiji.’ Bokuto’s mouth hung open, and Keiji used a knuckle to close it.

‘Yes, the real one. Please don’t overreact, it’s not a big deal.’

‘Not a big DEAL!’ You’re a prince! You’re royalty and you're currently on the floor of my dingy cottage talking to a  _ gardener _ !’ Bokuto retracted his legs from under the table, knocking Keiji's as he tucked them up to his body.

‘Please don’t, Bokuto-san.’ He fell silent, and leant forward, whispering in a small voice.

‘Do I have to call you  _ prince _ ?’

‘You can just call me Keiji.’

‘Keiji’s way too personal.’

‘Akaashi then?’ he suggested.

‘Akaashi! I like it. Wow.’

Bokuto began spewing out questions, buzzing like an electric fence. Keiji tried to answer them as best as he could (it was difficult to reply to  _ how many buttons does your shower have?! _ ).

‘Bokuto-san, you have to promise me one thing. You cannot tell anyone you know me like you do, or I’ll never be able to visit you again.’

‘I promise. I’d miss you too much if you stopped coming.’ Keiji rolled his eyes, a small smile on his lips as Bokuto pulled him in for a hug. Keiji had to hold back tears of joy as Bokuto moved on like it had never happened and began to talk about his meeting.

Keij couldn’t be more relieved, Bokuto hadn’t got angry that he had lied; he had explained that he understood why, and would have done the same thing as Keiji. Bokuto was adamant that nothing would change between them - no prince or your highness, or over aggressive bowing. They were just simply  _ friends _ , not political associates, and that was all Keiji could  _ ever  _ ask for.

~~

A few days had passed since Keiji unintentionally revealed his true identity, and they were functioning like normal. Bokuto didn’t seem phased by Keiji’s true status, and was simply invested in hearing Keiji tell more stories in further detail about the palace, and what it was like exactly to dine with the king and queen most days.

Keiji opened Bokuto’s door without knocking, and petted Dipo, who was sunbathing on the kitchen counter. She began to purr, her single ear twitching.

‘Akaashi! I know what we should do today!’ Bokuto came tumbling down the spiral stairs that led to his bedroom - that was Keiji’s assumption, since he had never been up there himself.

‘And what’s that?’

‘I’m,’ Bokuto jab a thumb into his own chest, ‘going to teach you the basics of flower arranging! I remembered you said that you’ve always wanted to have a go, and I’m a great teacher.’ Keiji’s heart squeezed in his chest at the fact that he had remembered such a small detail Keiji had probably mentioned offhandedly. He watched as Bokuto flung open the storage closet door, and began rummaging through it. He pulled out an apron, and a sunhat from a box, and handed it to Keiji. Bokuto tugged him out of the backdoor, and Keiji paused on the outside decking. He had never been out here before - it was a simple garden, lined with hedges, and filled with plant boxes with various vegetables and herbs growing in them. A small cobble path ran up the middle, and led to an open patio space, a table on the right, and a greenhouse on the left. Gardening tools were scattered all over the garden, and Keiji had to step over a rake that was lying spikes up in the middle of the path. 

Bokuto was quick to begin working, bending down and holding the table for support as he looked through a tub, and pulled two vases out, placing them on top of the table. Keiji stood mesmerised as he watched how Bokuto’s arm muscles flexed under his shirt, glad that he had such a labour intensive job. Keiji blinked as Bokuto took the apron that was crumbled in his hands, pulling it over Keiji’s head. He placed his large hands on Keigi’s hips in order to twist him around so he could tie up the back. Keiji couldn’t help but shiver when Bokuto gently patted the small of his back to signify he was done.

‘These are the flowers I’ve been thinking about using mostly for the centerpieces,’ Bokuto spoke, lifting a basket of cut flowers onto the table. The petals were mainly warm tones, ranging from pale pink to deep purple, ‘Let’s both use dahlias as our main flowers.’

‘Is this a competition then, Bokuto-san?’ Keiji asked, cocking a brow, ‘I think you have an unfair advantage.’

‘You’ll do great. You picked uo baking super quick, so you must be really talented and smart!’ Keiji immediately averted his gaze, his fingers suddenly becoming very interesting.

‘Here are the filler flowers. They're just what you use to make the arrangements look fuller,’ Bokuto said, placing another basket on the table, and it was filled with foliage and smaller flowers. 

Keiji plucked up a baby pink flower that he believed was a dahlia, and placed it in his vase. It fell forward, and looked at him pathetically. He placed two more dahlias, before grabbing a handful of a plant he learnt was called  _ baby’s breath _ , tucking them around the dahlias. Keiji tried to make his arrangement look somewhat presentable, but it still looked lumpy in places. In an attempt to save it, he shoved some greenery in the gaps.

‘Gwahhh, Akaashi!’ Bokuto marveled, once he had finished his own arrangement - it was beautiful, the colours complimented each other well, and it looked uniform.

‘Is it that bad?’ Keiji asked, taking a step back.

‘No! It’s really good. I like what you did with the shellflowers!’ Now that Keiji was looking at it from another angle, he realised that the shellflowers didn’t really go with the rest of the flowers, but Bokuto seemed impressed.

‘You’ve inspired me, ‘Kaashi,’ Bokuto picked up the vase, and strolled towards his greenhouse, Keiji following in curiosity. Bokuto sprinted inside, dumped the vase on a shelf, before darting back out. He inhaled sharply, and slammed the door shut, rattling the glass.

‘Why were you holding your breath?’ Keiji asked as Bokuto adjusted his hat.

‘My swirlsums recently bloomed, and they get very angry if you breathe near them,’ Bokuto explained nonchalantly, as if that wasn’t the most terrifying reason.

They finished up and spent the rest of the afternoon playing a card game Bokuto had invented. Keiji didn’t really understand the rules (he wasn’t even sure if there  _ were  _ rules), but he enjoyed seeing Bokuto’s face lighting up with joy when he won.

‘I think I better leave, Bokuto-san. Thank you for such an informative day.’ Keiji stood at the front door, pulling on his thin, late summer coat.

‘Anything for you Akaashi!’ Bokuto beamed, and held the door open for Keiji. ‘Oh! Wait right there! I have something for you!’ Bokuto disappeared upstairs, leaving Keiji standing in the doorway in some confusion. He petted Dipo as he waited.

‘Here!’ he said as he reappeared. In Bokuto’s hands was a flower crown - dainty, with light blue flowers weaved between green leaves, ‘I made it myself.’

‘Oh-’ was all Keiji could manage as he stared at the handmade crown. Bokuto had spent his own time to craft something especially for him. Bokuto gently placed it on top of Keiji’s dark curls, and couldn’t help but tuck a wave around his ear. Keiji’s breath caught in his throat.

‘Wo- I-. Thank you Bokuto-san. That’s very thoughtful of you.’ Bokuto smiled stretched wider, if that was even possible, at the compliment, clapping his hands together in excitement

‘I chose blue because it reminded me of your eyes!’ Keij’s hands went to the crown, his face on fire.

‘You’re so embarrassing,’ Keiji grumbled, looking at his shoes. The corner of his lips quirked upwards, unable to fight a smile at Bokuto’s enthusiasm. Keji was eager to leave as he was sure he was going to catch fire. He nodded goodbye as he left Bokuto’s who waved him from his door. His chest felt like it was filled with cotton, his head fuzzy.

  
  
  


‘So, Prince Keiji-’ Koari started as Keiji stumbled back into the main palace, high on life. Koari had a knowing smile on her face as she ushered him upstairs to his room. ‘A flower crown, eh?’ 

‘What of it?’ Keiji said defensively.

‘Ah, nothing, nothing,’ she waved a hand dismissively, opening his bedroom door for him, ‘I feel like I’ve seen that craftsmanship before.’

‘You have?’ 

‘Possibly. I could imagine I haven’t for your sake.’

‘I think I’d like that.’ Koari giggled in reply, and retrieved some clean towels for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> starts sweating nervously hehehe...

**Author's Note:**

> okay so FIRST CHAPTER is done! not too eventful but everything starts next chapter SO GET EXCITED AHHHHH. idk how many chapters this is going to be yet. i have the plot lines out etc i just need to redraft them. ive just put 10 for now,,, tysm for reading!!!


End file.
